


Tear in Your Hand

by vivaforever597



Series: Tales of a Librarian [1]
Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Disney Princesses
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 02:23:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8232794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivaforever597/pseuds/vivaforever597
Summary: Belle is even more silent than usual, but Adam realizes she's not angry. Only sad.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Good Lord, I used a lot of ellipses in this. So be it.
> 
> Tokophobia / possible teratophobia cw.

She had been especially quiet.

Not that she was ever much of a talker – come to think of it, that was probably why he liked her, for neither was he – but she’d been unusually terse. “Something’s wrong,” he remarked to Lumière that afternoon in his study.

The maître d’hotel replied with his throaty, stereotypically French chuckle. “ _Oh-hon-hon!_ You have done something to upset her, _non?_ ”

Adam’s eyes narrowed. “ _Non._ ” Lumière smirked, but Adam shook his head insistently. “Lumière, believe me. I can tell when she’s upset with me. This is different. Her eyes aren’t angry, only... distant.”

“The eyes are the windows to the soul,” Lumière said dramatically.

“And your mouth is the window to cliché,” Cogsworth muttered as he pushed past with a stack of papers. “Your signature, Master? For the new drapes.”

Adam’s eyes widened a bit as he took his pen. “All these for new drapes?”

Cogsworth giggled his self-indulgent giggle. “Well, you know, there are the purchase orders, the non-disclosure agreements, the liability statements, the original-work agreements...”

Adam met Lumière’s eye and half-smiled. Cogsworth’s passion for bureaucracy never ceased, regardless of anything else happening around him.

“Cogsworth!” Lumière purred. “Let the master and his pen have a break. He has more important things to do.”

Cogsworth turned on him. “What could be more important than arranging for the drapes?” he snapped, devoid of irony.

Lumière clapped his hand on the majordomo’s shoulder and began to steer him out of the study. “He must fix things up with his lady love,” he began. “Now, Cogsworth, don’t you think we ought to see what the cook has arranged for our dinners this week?” He looked over his shoulder to give Adam a wink, then glided away, Cogsworth sufficiently distracted.

Adam shook his head with a little smile. If nothing else, the pair was consistently amusing. But then his mind fell back to the situation at hand. _Belle._ She wasn’t angry, he knew – despite Lumière’s belief in hysterical women giving men the silent treatment, he knew her well enough to know that she’d have confronted him, in private if she didn’t want to make a scene as she had in the dark times. But then, what _had_ taken hold of her?  
  


* * *

  
The library’s heavy door made a scraping noise against the floor as it opened, then slowly closed. Belle sighed to herself and dropped a bookmark in the novel she’d been reading. Or trying to read. Pretending to read. Probably Mrs. Potts with a platter of tea and biscuits. The other servants wouldn’t bother her in the library, even Lumière, despite his tendency to stick his nose in his employers’ affairs more than was perhaps appropriate. Belle looked up and formed a smile on her face, the words already on her tongue: _Thank you, Mrs. Potts, you’re really too kind. Might I have some alone time now, though?_ But the words evaporated when she realized it was not the housekeeper, but her husband.

“Adam,” she acknowledged, her smile genuine if not wholly happy. “I thought you were working in your study this afternoon.”

“I was.” He sat on the couch opposite her armchair. “But I wanted to come see you.”

“You don’t have to keep an eye on me all the time, you know,” she said, not annoyed. “I’m as self-sufficient as ever.”

“I’m aware,” he said dryly. “But, Belle... is something wrong? You’ve been so quiet, and your eyes...” He didn’t have the words to explain what he saw there.

Belle stared down at her lap, then met his eye. “Do you know what today is?” she asked quietly.

“March first?” He quickly racked his brain. “Should I?” He knew it was a dangerous question, one with the potential to anger most wives, but after all, there were an awful lot of dates he no longer remembered, thanks to his time in animal form. There hadn’t been much use for keeping track of the days then...

Belle shook her head, smiling wanly. “I guess I never told you,” she said quietly. She brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. _Same old Belle_ , he thought, a surge of affection rising in his chest. She slowly reached out to place her book on the end table, then returned to him. “March first was my mother’s birthday.”

Adam winced, subconsciously closing his eyes. He knew this was a tough topic for her. He’d never asked about it, not wanting to upset her. All he knew was from Maurice: her mother had died several years ago. He didn’t even know what “several” meant, for at that point Maurice had choked up and had to excuse himself. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked gently.

Belle nodded thoughtfully. “I think I can trust you,” she said wryly. They both chuckled in spite of themselves. She drew in a breath. “I was meant to have a sister, you know. Clarice.”

Adam exhaled; this sounded like the beginning of a familiar story. “She died in childbirth?”

“No,” Belle said slowly. “She miscarried.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say. It _was_ sad, certainly, but he wasn’t seeing the connection.

She nodded in acknowledgement. “But something about the experience weakened her. Only a few months later...” Her voice caught. It was unusual. He only knew her to have choked up once before, and he hadn’t exactly seen it... “Consumption,” she finished quietly. “Papa and I looked after her. The doctor gave her some medicine. But it didn’t help. Or not enough, I suppose.”

Adam felt a dull pain. To think, she had been carrying this for so long. With no outlet, unless she’d confided in Mrs. Potts. If he knew her, she’d have avoided the topic with Maurice as he had with her, not wanting to upset him. It must have eaten away at her...

He slid over and patted the cushion next to him. She hesitated, as if not sure whether she should rise from her own seat. “It’s warm for you,” he said. She smiled. Good. He held out a hand, as if to steady her. She stood and reached out to take it, then stepped around the corner to take her seat, still holding his hand.

They sat in silence for a moment, Adam gently stroking the back of Belle’s hand with his free hand. Then he drew in a breath. “I lost mine too,” he said quietly.

Belle nodded. “I know.” Of course she did. With the amount of time she spent in this library, she’d probably been through all of the record books. She probably knew his family history better than he did. “Childbirth,” Belle murmured.

“Yes.” Adam paused to collect himself. “My brother was going to be called Étienne. But he didn’t make it either. And then my father shortly after. I think his heart was really weakened.”

Belle shook her head and laughed wanly. “We’re certainly a pair.”

He let go of her hand to wrap his arm around her middle, holding her tightly. “In many ways.”

She smiled, more genuinely this time. “I suppose so.” Then she frowned – not a sad frown, but a slightly confused one, as if she’d put something into place. “How old were you?” she asked.

“Eleven,” he replied.

“A year younger than me,” she said. “And not long before...” She tilted her head significantly.

“Yes,” he confirmed.

She lay her head against his shoulder and sniffed. “No wonder you weren’t in a mood to be especially considerate of a beggar woman.”

“No wonder at all,” he agreed. Then something struck him. “You don’t have to answer this,” he said slowly. “But if it was a miscarriage, how did you know it was a sister?”

Belle smiled again. “My mother knew those things sometimes. I don’t know how, but she was never wrong.” She pulled back a bit to look at his face. “She’d have liked you.”

Adam raised his eyebrows doubtfully. “She wouldn’t have disapproved of the beast?”

“Well, the real you.” Belle brushed her hair away from her face again. “I wish she could’ve met you. And you could’ve met her.”

Adam felt his own eyes wet. “Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Clarice was the name of Belle's sister in early versions of the Beauty and the Beast movie.
> 
> Étienne (the French equivalent of the English name Stephen) is a reference to the band Saint Etienne, who [appear](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X6GCVhPzHe0) [on](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3eBiPyQbfhA) my BATB fanmix, which _will_ be online, at some point...


End file.
